


By Morning's Light

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [66]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Dating, M/M, Making Out, Morning After, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6889003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Comment Fic for Lyrics prompt: <i>any, any, </i></p><p>
  <i>Collecting clothes while you’re sleeping</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Through your room, I am creeping</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Passing hours make it clearer to see</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Morning sex is for lovers (Emily Kinney)</i>
</p><p>
  <i>In which Rodney has certain expectations for the morning after, and John has other ideas.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Morning's Light

Morning sun was just starting to bleed through the blinds as Rodney moved through John’s surprisingly large apartment, following the trail of clothes they’d left the night before: shirts by the door (fingers sliding on bare skin), Rodney’s pants tossed over the back of the couch (John grinding against him, hot and hard), John’s jeans and one sock in a heap just outside the bedroom door (Rodney’s hands down the back of John’s underwear). 

Rodney hesitated at the threshold to John’s room, clothes clutched in one hand and wearing only his boxers. John was still asleep, curled up on his side with one leg outside the blanket. It was incredibly tempting to crawl back in bed with him, but that wasn’t how one- and two-night stands went. Lingering in bed was for lovers, not for…whatever they were after two nights of incredible sex.

Still, Rodney needed his socks, so he had to venture in as quietly as he could manage.

There hadn’t been much time last night to take a look around. Rodney remembered being surprised at what a nice, well-appointed place John had, especially for someone on a teacher’s salary. All the furniture was very obviously new; wherever John had come from, he’d traveled light.

As the light grew stronger, Rodney could see that one corner of the bedroom was occupied by two guitars: the electric acoustic John had played last night, and a well-worn acoustic that had shimmering blue inlays. There were several framed pictures on the wall of a young, dark-haired boy standing beside musical icons like Johnny Cash and Grace King and Bob Dylan, and a framed LP sleeve from King’s first album, _Lush Summer_.

The dark-haired boy had to be John, but how…oh. Now that he was looking, he could see it, the resemblance between Grace King and the child that had to be her son. John was descended from folk music royalty. 

“You’re up early,” John said, his voice still thick with sleep.

Rodney whirled around, feeling as guilty as if he’d been caught going through John’s dresser drawers. John was propped up on one elbow, his hair squashed flat on one side and a crease along his cheek from the pillowcase. He looked good enough to eat, and Rodney’s face flushed with memories of doing just that the night before.

“Yes, well. I have meetings. For work.”

“Oh. Right.” It might have been Rodney’s imagination, but he thought John sounded a little disappointed. “I thought you said you were free till this afternoon.”

Shit. He had said that. “Have you seen my socks?” There was absolutely no shame in changing the subject.

John looked over the side of the bed, and then fished around under it. He came up with two socks, though only one of them was Rodney’s. “Either of these a likely suspect?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

But when Rodney reached out for the sock, John grabbed hold of his wrist and tugged Rodney off his feet so that he sprawled on the bed. On top of John. Who was sporting some pretty impressive morning wood. Rodney’s body responded almost immediately.

“I can make it worth your while,” John murmured. He nosed at Rodney’s neck. “Be a shame to waste this.”

John lifted his hips and ground his erection against Rodney’s thigh, but for the moment Rodney was distracted by something else, something far more ephemeral. John wanted him to stay. For morning sex. That was big. That was…

John slid his hands up the legs of Rodney’s boxers, cupping his ass, and Rodney surged forward to kiss John. He didn’t care about morning breath or scratchy stubble, or the implications of what they were doing.

There’d be plenty of time later to freak out about the fact that Rodney was very probably now dating John.


End file.
